The Littlest Marine & The Oldest Living Married Virgin

by Maureen Child

“Congratulations,” someone said as Jack’s friends melted away into the crowd, leaving the two of them alone.

  “I didn’t mean to scare everyone off,” she said, looking after them for a minute before shifting her gaze to his.

  He grinned briefly, unable to contain it. “They’re marines,” he told her in a whisper. “They don’t scare.”

  She smiled and nodded. “Ah, yes, a strategic retreat, then?”

  “Much better.” God, she was beautiful. His gaze locked on her mouth and it was all he could do not to kiss her senseless in front of her father and everyone else in the yard.

  “Hope you don’t mind if I hang out with you for a while,” she said, her voice carrying a twinge of doubt.

  Mind? Hell, at the moment, he wanted to shout. For whatever reason, she’d chosen to come to him rather than stay with her father’s friends.

  “I think I can stand it,” he said in the biggest understatement he’d ever made.

  One dark eyebrow arched high on her forehead. She pointed at his beer. “And do you think you might find another one of those, too?”

  “Lady,” he said, feeling suddenly, inexplicably happy, “I can find anything. I used to be Recon.”

  “Then get busy, Marine,” she said quietly, and moved in close to him.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He draped his left arm around her shoulders and pulled her tightly to his side. He didn’t even ask himself if it was for the benefit of everyone there—or if it was because he couldn’t stand not touching her for another minute.

  The reasons no longer mattered to him. All that counted now was holding her.

  Tom Candello looked past the crowd to where his daughter and her husband stood staring into each other’s eyes. A swell of pleasure rushed through him. Maybe it would all work out, he thought. Maybe the two of them would realize how good they could be together.

  He’d seen his daughter hurt and humiliated by the wrong man. Now he’d like to see her find love with a man he knew would be good to her.

  “What are you thinking?” A woman walked up beside him, dragging his attention away from Donna and Jack.

  “Hmm?” He swiveled his head and caught himself smiling. Major Sally Taylor. Dedicated career officer, brilliant mind—and God help him, great legs. He scratched that thought immediately. A man couldn’t be too careful these days.

  “Oh,” he said at last, after noticing the patient expression on her face, “I was just thinking what a nice-looking couple they make.”

  She followed his gaze and nodded. “Yes, they do. I hope everything works out well for them.”

  “You don’t sound hopeful,” he commented, reacting to the cynical note in her voice.

  Sally chuckled and shook her head. “That’s because I’m not, Colonel.”

  “We’re off duty,” he reminded her, “Call me Tom.”

  “All right, Tom. I’m Sally.”

  “Now that we have that settled,” he said, glad to at least be on a first name-basis at last, “why so cynical?”

  She lifted her glass of iced tea and took a sip before saying, “Because I’m all grown up now, Tom. And fairy-tale endings are for kids.”

  He blinked, not sure what to say to that. She smiled and moved off to talk to Lieutenant Jorgensen.

  The sky was blanketed with stars when Jack and Donna started for home. With soft jazz pouring from the truck’s CD player, they drove through the base slowly, as if neither of them was in any particular hurry to get home.

  “Who was that woman talking to my father most of the night?” she asked finally, more to end the silence than anything else.

  “Major Taylor,” Jack said shortly. “She’s new here. Hasn’t been on Pendleton for more than a month or so.”

  “Dad sure seems interested in her.”

  “Does that bother you?” he asked, glancing at her briefly.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, not at all sure if she was comfortable with the idea of her father actually dating someone. It didn’t matter if he was fairly young and handsome. Or even that he’d been alone for most of his life. It was just an odd sensation, thinking of your parents as having a private life. A love life. “I guess it feels a little strange,” she said, “but I hope everything works out for him.” Better, she added silently, than things had been working out for her.

  Another minute or two of silence spun out before Jack said softly. “It was a nice party.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Everyone seemed to have a good time.”

  “Seemed to,” she agreed.

  “Did you?” he asked, glancing at her again.

  Donna took a long moment before answering. She studied his profile in the dim, reflected glow of the dash lights. Strong, rugged, and completely, heart-stoppingly attractive.

  When had this marriage stopped being a pretense to her? When had she begun to care for this man? And did it really matter?

  “Yes,” she said finally. “I did.”

  He shifted another look at her and gave her a small smile. “Me, too.”

  In another moment he was pulling up in front of their house and cutting the engine. When he shut off the headlights, dark fell down around them like a thick, new blanket.

  Giving in to an impulse, Donna quickly unhooked her seat belt and slid across the bench seat toward him.

  Jack inhaled sharply, half turning his head toward her. “Donna—”

  “Jack.” She lifted one hand to cover his mouth with her fingertips. “Don’t say anything, okay?”

  He caught her hand with his and said quietly, “I just don’t think—”

  “Good,” she interrupted again. “Maybe it’s time we both stopped thinking and started feeling.”

  Then she leaned in, tilted her head and kissed him.

  After an instant’s hesitation, he kissed her right back. As if picking up where they’d left off, passion burst into life, igniting the inside of the small pickup like a match set to gasoline.

  Jack groaned and grabbed her to him, shifting in the seat to drag her across his lap. She wiggled her bottom, looking for a comfortable position, and unknowingly, torturing him further. His groin hard and ready, as it had been during each of the long, frustrating nights of their marriage, he groaned from the back of his throat as she settled in his lap.

  She reached up, cupped his face with her hands and deepened their kiss. He parted her lips with his tongue and plundered her with all of the thoroughness of a marine landing in enemy territory.

  Donna moaned gently and pressed her breasts against his chest. Even through the fabric of their shirts and the confinement of her bra, he felt the rigid tips of her nipples and had to touch them. Caress them. Taste them.

  He pulled her T-shirt free of the waistband of her jeans and slid his hands up over the smooth, warm skin of her back. In seconds he had her bra clasp undone. His left hand skimmed around to cup one breast and his thumb rubbed her nipple until she arched into him, instinctively seeking more.

  Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and bent his head to take that small, hard bud into his mouth. He felt her fingers cup the back of his head, holding him to her. And when he suckled her, she gasped and let her head fall back on her neck.

  “Oh, Jack…” she whispered brokenly.

  His lips and teeth teased her sensitive flesh until he was crazy with want and need. His body felt as though it was about to explode, and every one of her quick intakes of breath only fanned flames that were threatening to engulf him completely.

  Her hands moved to his shoulders, her fingers clutching at him, digging into his skin through the fabric of his T-shirt. Her hips bucked on his lap, she could feel that he was as hard as steel.

  “Donna,” he whispered as he lifted his head for another kiss, “I have to touch you. Feel you. All of you.”

  “Yes, Jack,” she answered, her words tumbling from her in a rush. “I need that, too. Now. Please, now.”

  Already, his fingers were working at the button and zipper of her jeans
. She twisted in his arms, trying to help but succeeding only in torturing him further.

  At last the brass button popped free and the zipper slid down noiselessly, allowing him access to her body. To the secrets he’d been wanting to delve ever since that first night when he’d rescued her and then lain awake all night staring at her.

  Sliding his fingers beneath the fragile elastic of her bikini underwear, he pushed onward, downward, until he felt the soft brush of curls covering her most intimate flesh.

  She gasped again, louder this time, and lifted her hips slightly into his touch.

  His heartbeat slowed, then seemed to stop altogether when he touched her damp heat for the first time. She sucked in a gulp of air and wiggled her hips, inviting him, silently asking him to explore her body.

  His fingertips skimmed across the small, sensitive nub of flesh at the peak of her center and she shuddered in his arms. His left arm tightened around her, holding her securely while his right hand sent her spiraling out of control.

  Fighting against the confines of the denim jeans, he dipped one finger into her liquid heat and sighed in satisfaction when she groaned.

  It wasn’t enough, he thought desperately. Not nearly enough. He wanted to have her naked beneath him. Open to his entry. He wanted to push his body into hers and feel her quivering response. He wanted to watch her reach that ultimate feeling of ecstasy just before emptying himself within her.

  “Jack,” she whispered, and shifted her hips again. “This feels…”

  “Too confining?” he asked quietly, and leaned forward to press a kiss to the pulse point in her throat.

  “Wonderful,” she finished, and arched into his hand again.

  “Let’s go inside, Donna,” he said, wanting to move now, while he could still walk.

  “It’s too far away,” she argued.

  “We need more room, Donna,” he told her, reluctantly pulling his hand free of her jeans.

  She groaned her disappointment, but lifted her head to look at him. “Room?” she repeated.

  “To romp,” he told her, already reaching for the door handle.

  Ten

  The short walk to the front door had never seemed so long before. They practically raced each other to the house.

  Once inside, with the door closed and locked, they fell together, lips seeking, hands grasping. In a hushed symphony of whispered urgency, they stumbled across the living room to the bedroom where they had lain together yet apart since their marriage.

  Tumbling down onto the mattress, Jack propped himself up on one elbow, staring down into her face as though he needed reassurance from her that she really did want him. One hand slid under the front of her T-shirt, then beneath her still-loosened bra to cup one of her breasts. As his fingers smoothed across her hardened nipple, she gasped, arching her back like a kitten demanding to be stroked.

  “Donna,” he asked quietly, “are you sure you want this?”

  “Look at me,” she answered, a soft, strained smile on her face. “My heart’s racing, my legs couldn’t support me if I tried to walk, and every time you touch me, I forget to breathe.”

  His throat tightened unexpectedly. Emotion rose up in him. Emotions that terrified him, yet filled him with pleasure.

  His thumb caressed her nipple and she squeezed her eyes shut briefly.

  “Yeah, Jack. I’m sure.”

  “Thank God,” he murmured, and bent his head to claim a kiss. His lips brushed across hers gently. His teeth nipped at her lower lip and his tongue defined the shape of her mouth before slipping into her warmth and stoking the fires within into an inferno.

  He tugged the hem of her shirt up and pushed the fine white lace bra aside. Breaking the kiss, Jack inhaled sharply and filled his gaze with the sight of the smooth, creamy flesh he’d dreamed of caressing. As he dragged the palm of his hand lightly across her chest, he felt her heartbeat thundering behind her rib cage.

  He swallowed heavily and his own heartbeat jumped into a matching rhythm. Dipping his head, he claimed first one nipple, then the other, flicking at the dark, rosy buds with the tip of his tongue until Donna twisted and writhed beneath him.

  Her hands bunched in the fabric of his shirt and when she tried to pull it up so that she could caress his skin, he sat up, pulling her with him. “Too many clothes here,” he whispered, and gently lifted her shirt up and over her head.

  “Way too many,” she agreed, reaching for the hem of his shirt, tugging it off, and tossing it to the floor.

  He eased her bra straps down off her shoulders and along her arms until it, too, landed in a heap on the floor.

  In seconds she was in his arms again, and the incredible sensation of his skin brushing against hers pushed him over the fine line he’d been walking.

  Without words, they tore the rest of their clothing off, and turned to each other in a haze of desire so intense neither of them could have spoken if they’d tried. But there was no need for words. Not now. Now, there was only the need to touch. Taste. Discover.

  Impatiently yanking the multicolored quilt off, Jack laid Donna down on the cool, flower-sprigged cotton sheets and leaned over her. He kissed her until his lungs were clamoring for air, and still he didn’t want to stop. But there was so much more he wanted to do to her. With her. Tearing his mouth free of hers, he slid his lips along the line of her jaw to the column of her neck. His tongue traced a warm, damp course down the elegant column and he paused at the base of her throat to test the thrumming pulse point hidden there.

  She moved against him, arching, twisting, holding his head to her as if afraid he would stop. As his mouth tormented her, his hands slid over her body, discovering and exploring every dip, every curve. His callused fingertips stroked her satiny skin with the delicate touch of a sculptor working with glass. Yet the hunger, the need, continued to build until he felt as though he could never feel enough of her…taste enough of her.

  At last, his right hand skimmed over the curve of her hip and along her thigh. Caressing the inner flesh of her leg, his fingers dusted across her center in a promise of things to come.

  She jerked in his arms and tipped her head back into the mattress. Her legs parted for him and he accepted her invitation. As his hand cupped her warmth, she shivered, her hips lifting from the bed, moving into his hand, instinctively searching for the completion they both needed so badly.

  Raising his head, he stared down into her passion-glazed eyes, wanting to remember every second of this time with her. Every moment. He wasn’t fool enough to think that this changed anything. That she would be with him forever. But that knowledge only made tonight more special. More wondrous. And in the years to come, he knew he would turn to this memory often.

  Threads of moonlight pierced the room, sliding through the gaps in the curtains. Her lips parted as puffs of strangled breath escaped her lungs. A soft, cold breeze slipped beneath the partly opened window, scattering gooseflesh over her body.

  “Cold?” he whispered.

  She shook her head. “Not enough to stop to close the window.” Cupping his face with one hand, she smoothed her fingertips across his cheekbone, sending spears of light and heat deep into the darkest corners of his soul. Corners he had been sure were closed off forever.

  Any danger warnings coming from the back of his mind, though, were ignored. He couldn’t have walked away from this woman if his life had depended on it.

  Breathlessly, he slipped one finger into her passage, eager now to become a part of her. To touch her as deeply as she had him.

  So tight, so warm. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as he stroked her inner flesh. She planted both feet firmly on the mattress and lifted her hips again and again, rocking with an ancient rhythm, silently pleading with him, demanding everything from him.

  Groaning, he surrendered to the moment. Shifting position until he knelt between her updrawn legs, he withdrew his hand from her body despite her moan of disappointment.

  Donna fought for a breath she coul
dn’t catch. Every nerve in her body was sizzling with an inner fire so hot and wild, she was afraid it would never be quenched.

  This was so much more than she’d ever imagined. Every touch of Jack’s hands sent her skittering closer to the edge of a precipice she’d never even been near before.

  She looked up at him as he moved to kneel in front of her. His gray eyes glittered in the moonlight. His broad muscular chest tapered to a narrow waist and hips. But it was the hard, solid length of him that made her eyes widen in both desire and apprehension. Ridiculous thing to have to admit at the ripe old age of twenty-eight, but she was a little scared. What if they didn’t fit together? What if he was too—she looked again—big? What if she did something wrong and not only ruined her initiation into lovemaking but humiliated herself into the bargain?

  What if she was disappointed?

  No. What if he was disappointed?

  Lord. Was it too late to stop? To change her mind? To go to her grave a vestal virgin, untouched by any man?

  His fingertips stroked her damp inner flesh again and the throbbing ache centered there tripled. She bit down hard on her bottom lip. Definitely too late to stop. She couldn’t back out now. She had to know it all. And most importantly, she wanted Jack Harris to be the man who showed her all of the secrets she’d waited so long to learn. She wanted him to feel for her what she felt for him. She wanted this marriage to be a real one, damn it.

  “Jack,” she said brokenly, “I want—” Half sitting, she reached for him. He caught her hands, threading his fingers through hers. Still keeping their hands locked together, palm to palm, he loomed over her, bracing their entwined hands on the mattress at either side of her head.

  He bent to kiss her briefly and then she felt the soft, hard tip of him as his body searched for the entry to hers. Instinctively she lifted her hips, moving into him, drawing him closer, deeper.

  And then he was inside her, slowly pushing himself into her warmth. Her eyes widened at the unfamiliar yet completely wonderful sensation. She felt her body stretch to accommodate his presence and her breath caught in her throat at the utter beauty of the moment. Sweet tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She didn’t want him to see tears and think she was uncomfortable, and she doubted he would believe her if she told him that she was crying because he was simply too beautiful, too wonderful to be real.